She's Never Coming Back
by SpiritOfCarnage
Summary: ... He was trapped in this life by his family. ... And now; on the streets, in the mall, on the beach, under the sun, under the moon and, under the stars; he could never find some peace.


_08/31/11 12:09_

**Disclaimer:** I Do Not Own Twilight Or Any Of Its Characters.

**-Inspired By:** The Chairman's Waltz, by John Williams and the extraordinaire poem Anabelle Lee, by Edgar Allan Poe.

**Find Me On Tumblr: **http:/ awayfromthedesert . tumblr . com/

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><p>It was becoming dark when he saw her across the street, arguing with the man beside her. He saw the mahogany hair flowing over her white shoulders. The man tried to get a hold on her arm, but she pushed him. The conversation went on for a couple of minutes, but he was too focused on her eyes to catch the words, let alone the thoughts echoing in his head. Tears were flowing down her high cheekbones, then the man turned his back on her and left.<p>

He felt anger rising in him, no man should ever abandoned a lady on a street like this. She had covered her eyes with her hands, then she tried to clean her face from the tears. He walked across the road in an instant; this was just the perfect time.

"Ma'am," he called, "are you okay?". She abruptly looked up; he sensed she was a bit scared, she couldn't see his face clearly because of the lack of light. Though her face was clear for him as if it was the brightest day, she was beautiful and really resembled 'her'. She tried to smile though she couldn't, "Yeah, I am. Thank you." she said in a little voice.

He stepped back, tried to behave like he was embarrassed; he scratch his neck. "Well, I saw you and you didn't seem... Can I at least help you find a cab?" He wasn't actually listening to her thoughts but somehow he felt her mind easing. "I... I'm going this way. Umm... Should we walk?" "Please." he gestured with his hand. It was a quiet walk. She was walking beside the road and he knew he had to change places with her so she would be beside the wall, hidden behind his bigger form. Though he kept on walking without invading her personal space.

"Is that one?" he said pointing a spot in the dark; even though there was no car in sight. He walked in front of her so that she could follow her actions. "Oh... I'm sorry, it wasn't apparently. But, who would drive a yellow car?" he laughed quietly. She joined; quiet and still sniffing occasionally.

He knew that he was pushing his luck with prolonging the walk, and he had to finish it. Just when they were walking past an alley, he swung his one arm around her neck and put his hand on her mouth, careful to not to break her. With a speed and strength like his, she stood no chance. He pressed against her main artery that carries blood to her brain. After a couple of seconds, she passed out; she could even die if he kept on, but he did not want her to die. Cliché maybe, but not yet.

He pulled the sedative out of the chest pocket of his jacket, and injected the medicine in her system. Then he took her in his arms, and started walking to his car. She would be dosed off for enough time.

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><p>He looked at the form of petite form of brunette hanging from the ceiling of the warm and humid basement. It was so hot that it would be hard to breathe for her. It didn't matter for him though, since he was already dead; both inside and outside. He could see the sweat rolling down on her white, delicate neck; following the line of her spine; from under the leather mask on her face. Covering the face that didn't belong to his dead lover; allowing him to think that it was hers. Allowing him to think it was his Isabella who jumped of a cliff; got lost in the cold, blue waves and, abandoned him when he needed her the most.<p>

"I was coming to you my beautiful. I was coming back. Why couldn't you wait for me just for a couple of hours more? Why couldn't I be faster?" he said, more talking to himself while running the back of his hand behind her back lightly. Goose bumps travelled her skin under his hand, he knew he was still ice-cold despite the unnecessarily hot temperature of the room. She squirmed under his touch, her muffled words filled the room. He knew what she would say if she could; 'I'm not her.', probably; 'Let me go!'; 'What did I do to you?'; 'Please, please, please...'; 'Don't.'.

He knew all of them, he heard all of them in the past years of hell. It was easy to put a spell on these young ladies; just a couple of sweet words, offering some help and, they were in his arms. Cliché trick; too cliché that no one would think that it would happen to them. He was trapped in this life by his family. He would go after her and her stupidity. He would die, too. They would find each other in the heaven, on the clouds; after he paid for all of his past sins. He would spend the eternity by just looking in to that chocolate-brown eyes, but no. Somebody always had to ruin everything.

And now; on the streets, in the mall, on the beach, under the sun, under the moon and, under the stars; he could never find some peace. A piece of brown hair flowing here; a pair of chocolate eyes looking at someone else there... He just couldn't stand it, he had to destroy all of them. If he couldn't destroy himself; if he was to live an eternity alone, with this eternal pain inside; he had to do something. He couldn't just stand there and let them poison him even from a great distance; with a look; with a scent...

He took the scissors from the metal counter and, with the clank of the metal, she started crying and squirming even more. He hushed her lightly and, began cutting her hair off. Cutting from the very base. She cried more and, more when she felt the cold metal touching her head and the hair falling down. Edward didn't know her name but, it didn't matter; they were all Isabella to him. The lover he would love forever, and ever. He collected the hairs, from all the girls; in boxes. Exquisite, long, mahogany hair.

And eyes. He took the eyes, too. Big, beautiful, chocolate eyes. It would be a big waste to let them go blank, blurred and meaningless; so he preferred taking them out while their warm blood was still travelling in their veins. He preserved them in special coolers. They needed no mark or anything; his vampire memory didn't allow him to forget which eyes were matched with which hair.

He collected the hair that he cut off and, tied with an elastic band, then put into the box waiting; avoiding her cries and muffled whimper. He put the box on a shelf on the wall and, pushed the metal operation table to the back of her knees. He lowered her to the table and bound her feet and hands to the table; she didn't –couldn't protest, she was too tired to. But when he started fastening her head to the table; somehow she sensed that the following action wouldn't be soft as the past ones.

He went to the shelves on the wall again and took one of his special tools. It was a steel spoon; once upon a time, at least. He had sharpened the edges of it like a blade; so that he could take the eyes out without deforming them. He already lost a pair because of his impatience and stupidity. But, they –the girls, unfortunately had the tendency to close their eyes when they understand what was going on so there always was a razor blade to cut off the eyelids carefully first.

He took the damp towel with him to wipe the blood off, then walked back to the operation table where she was bound and unable to move. He took out the patch that covered the eye holes of the mask and, she saw him clearly for the first time; a face of an angel. But, Devil was an angel, too. Pained but concentrated, topaz eyes attracted her attention first. Two golden orbs focused on her eyes. Then the auburn mass on his head, untainted with sweat. But that didn't catch her attention, she was wondering how an angel like him was able to do this vile things to her; to anybody.

Her thoughts wandered until he took her left eyelid between two fingers and she saw the blade coming closer to her eye. She tried to move or close her eyes but she was restrained too tight and, there was no way her eyelid could win a battle against Edward's fingers. Her muffled screams filled the room, the mask wasn't allowing her to open her mouth. If she could; her scream would fill the room, pierce through every ear that can hear, people walking on the street above their head would hear it. It would make their blood run cold. It would; if it could.

He cut off each eyelid carefully; wiping off the flowing blood time after time. The sweet smell didn't attracted him a bit. Blood and tears mixed; it was probably burning the cuts. She felt something cold pressing into her eye, slowly going to the back of her head. Then again, her cries turned into muffled screams while the sharp ends of the spoon cut her optic nerves, retinal blood vessels and her vision went black. Edward carefully took one eye out; then the other one. The holes filled with blood, the blood overflowed. He left the girl screaming, eyes were much more important right now. He cut the remaining vessels, cleaned the blood off of them and, put them into the antiseptic; then closed their lid.

From his previous experiments, he knew that beheading her -or any kind of cutting- to kill her and, to get rid of the body would be too bloody and messy for his like; so he found a different way to completely get rid of her life and corpse. He went to the tub in the corner of the room and, lifted the glass lid up; then went back to the whimpering girl. So much blood already made its way to the table and, to the ground. He could clean it tomorrow; when he came to collect what was left of her bones.

He put his hands on her shoulders and, with a twist of his hand; he dislocated them. Her muffled voice was harsh and broken because of the constant screaming. He did the same thing to all of her joints, so she could not push the glass lid off; they easily broke. And lastly; he broke her chin so she couldn't open her mouth to make noise. Though, he knew that her throat was too sore to scream.

He untied her and took off the mask; put her into the tub and, closed the glass lid. Then turned on the acid jets. The smell of the meat hit his nose immediately. He watched her struggling form and dissolving flesh for half a minute, listened her sounds; then he turned away from the tub, took the blooded butcher's smock off and, went out. He would come tomorrow, and clean his mess. He wouldn't see that room; until the time another mahogany hair and chocolate eyes shattered his heart again.

But that time

was to come

time after time

until the end of time...


End file.
